The Next in Line: Reloaded
by Pen Agram13
Summary: AU. Based on GTA Online. This story chronicles the criminal career of Alexia, a painfully shy young woman from South Yankton who is persuaded to move to Los Santos by her uncle, the leader of a powerful crew in the city, in the hopes of her one day succeeding him. Rated T for a game based on no sensical violence
1. Chapter 1: Introductions

**Hello there readers! I'm proud to present _The Next in Line: Reloaded_! The original story by The 7th Element was a fine and well written story! With his permission he gave me the go ahead to write and produce this alternate timeline to his work. If you guys get a chance please check out his original story! I'll leave the link to that here **

"Ladies and gentlemen, we will be arriving at Los Santos International Airport shortly. Local time is 8:05 PM, and the current temperature is 82 degrees. Please make sure your seatbelts..."

The captain's instructions became but a meaningless drone to a certain young, black-haired woman onboard, whose stupefied stare was directed toward the sight of the illuminated Los Santos skyline. Her uncle had told her that LS was a big place, and she had certainly seen pictures of the cityscape online, but they were more like poor, amateur illustrations compared to these giant artificial mountains, their lighted exteriors turning the otherwise dark and sunless sky above them a bright orange hue.

A friendly tap from the passenger next to her prevented her from being scolded by the notoriously-crabby FLY US attendants patrolling the aisles. She hastily fastened her seat belt and positioned her lap table upright before taking in one last glance of the city, now accompanied by the colorful neon-lit attractions of the world-famous Del Perro Pier.

"This your first time visitin Los Santos?" asked the middle-aged African-American woman in the neighboring seat.

"Y-yeah..." she responded, briefly unsure on how to make small talk with the people of this amazing city. "Well, actually I'm gonna be...living here."

"Really?" replied the woman, somewhat surprised. "What neighborhood?"

"Pillbox Hill. My uncle, he's lived here for a while, and he was nice enough to give me the down payment to a really nice apartment."

"You mean them luxury apartments?!" she responded, obviously astonished.. The younger woman nodded.

"Girl! That must be some uncle! Does he have a-" she stopped when she realized some nearby passengers were staring her. Not wanting to embarrass the girl, she instead bent down and spoke to her in a softer, lower register.

"I, um, actually don't live too far from Pillbox Hill. Not in a...luxury apartment, of course. Maybe we can meet up sometime. I'm Denise," she said, extending her hand and a pink business card.

"Alexia...nice to meet you." She accepted Denise's card and cautiously shook her manicured hand.

Skimming over the hot pink business card, Alexia cocked an eyebrow and looked at Denise questioningly.

"Pelvic exercises?"

"Yes, ma'am. Me and my girlfriends, we practice what's known as new-age feminism, and a strong and healthy pelvic cavity plays a large part of the spiritual empowerment of women," Denise proudly proclaimed. "You should come take a spirit walk with us sometime, I'm sure Magenta would love havin another white girl around."

"Yeah, I...I'll think about it," said Alexia halfheartedly before turning toward the window to realize that the plane had already parked, and passengers were being let out.

Alexia then proceeded to wander around the vast concrete maze of America's busiest airport, searching for one of her uncle's men that had been sent to pick her up.

Alexia's uncle, as Denise had hypothesized, was indeed a rather important fixture in Los Santos. However, contrary to most wealthy men, he was not a very public face (he was much more of a recluse), nor did he gather his large fortune by...entirely legal means. Alexia's uncle was none other than the notorious Remus Knight, the leader of a powerful Los Santos crew called The Black Skulls. Consisting of about 750 of the most bloodthirsty criminals in the state, the crew would make make it a regular hobby to execute large, bloody purges on the Los Santos police, as well as on rival crews. They would often do this with the use of such advanced weaponry as LAPV Insurgents and armored Karin Kurumas, as well as handheld miniguns and heat-seeking rocket launchers. Every member of the crew, to signify their allegiance, was to wear a jet black skull mask and all-black clothing whenever they were to go out on a killing spree, so that the general public and law enforcement officials would be aware of who reigned the streets of Los Santos in blood.

Aside from the high-ranking mass murderers, however, were the lower rank hoods, who were often assigned to minor drug deals and occasionally running errands for Alexia's uncle. One of these 'doots', as they were called, was a rather tall and lanky African-American man, leaning against a dark-blue 2004 Albany Emperor. This particularly-shady figure was, for some reason, carrying a bright red rose in his hand, which he used to signal to the black-haired girl that was quite visibly struggling with her heavy suitcase.

"Ay girl, you need some help with that?" asked the man, looking over the rather-attractive niece of his boss.

Not waiting for a response from Alexia, he immediately proceeded to lift the rolling suitcase unnecessarily high over his head and drop it into the trunk of his car.

"No trouble at all," he boasted, pretending to wipe sweat off of his brow. "How it do, baby? Lamar Davis. You Alexia, right? The big dog's niece?"

Alexia reticently accepted the rose that he persistently held in front of her face.

"Yeah, that's me...is this from my uncle?"

Lamar's face lit up with uncertainty, as if this was not the response that he had expected.

"Uh...no, i-it's... mine. Uh..."

"Oh. Um...well, I don't..." Alexia, not able to find the correct words, instead tossed the rose onto the pavement.

"Yeah, okay. I'm cool with that. That's cool. Like, keepin it, like, bidness only, you know?" he stumbled, his face turning slightly red.

"Yeah, that...that's fine with me."

"A'ight, that's trill baby. Uh...we should prolly jet, the boss gon' like, cut my nuts off or somethin if we late."

Alexia immediately turned and gave him a half-puzzled, half-disgusted look.

"I-I mean, not that he does that or nothin', 'least, I don't think he does..."

Alexia climbed into the front seat of the car. However, as soon as the door was closed, she immediately started to gag and attempted to hold her nose, due to the pungent odor that pervaded the car's atmosphere.

"Damn baby, you a'ight? I mean, this hoopty is a dirty mo'fucker, but I did try an' clean i-."

"That smell, it's...it's horrible!" Alexia cried through her pinched nostrils.

"What are...Ohh..." Lamar proceeded to break into a raucous chuckle as he cranked the engine. "I guess you ain't really accustomed to the smell of kush."

As Lamar accelerated forward, Alexia desperately opened her window and inhaled the heavily-polluted-but-better-smelling Los Santos air.

"Man...man, I'm sorry baby," said Lamar in between chuckles. "Me and my boy Frank, we was cruisin in this hoopty last night, we was rollin like, fitty sticks of that shit, man, and boy that was some dope shit right there. Y'know, I dunno if you will, but if you end up, like, givin it a try or somethin I gon' hook you up man, I got this dealer who can get you, like, 75 on the..."

Again, Alexia managed to tune out the meaningless voices and gape out in wonder at the illumened monoliths in the center of the city. This time, they were much closer, only maybe a few yards away from the freeway that they were traveling on, and only served to make her feel smaller. One of the skyscrapers, she noticed, had obvious signs of construction on its surface, and many Latino workers currently on their dinner break. With her sholder-length black hair sweeping in her face as Lamar floored it down the highway, Alexia struggled to crane her neck upward and witness a helicopter, about just a few feet above the summit of the Maze Bank arena, presumably coming in for a landing.

"Hey baby, you aight?"

For the second time that day, Alexia had been snapped back into reality. She quickly poked her head back in, the smell of marijuana no longer as strong as it was.

"Naw, naw, I'm just sayin, do what you want, man. I-I just thoughtchu was goin all, like, catatonic on me or some shit, like..." he began to break into wheezy laughter. "And you was just, like, lookin up with that...that big grin on yo'face, man. That's hilarious."

Alexia blushed slightly and gave a nervous smile.

"Sorry," she said timidly. "It's just...I'm a country girl, y'know? I lived out in South Yankton most of my life, so I've never really...seen buildings this tall before."

"Yeah, that's cool. I see these everyday, you know? I don't really give em a second glance but, shit, it's kinda nice to see you so interested in somethin I've seen my whole life, it's kinda like...I don't know, a lil kid or somethin...You kinda give off that vibe, girl, it's kinda cool."

At last, the car rolled to a stop at a red light. Lamar looked around suspiciously before turning to Alexia.

"Ay, uh, since we outta...airport jurisdiction," Lamar practically whispered, leaning over to Alexia's side of the car. "I know you ain't really a flowers girl, but...I got somethin else that might be a lil more...useful."

Alexia gently took the small piece of metal from Lamar and studied it in the light of the streetlamp beside them.

"Wow...is this a Taurus PT92 9mm?!" Alexia asked, enthusiastically.

"Uh...yeah," Lamar responded, again receiving an unexpected response from Alexia. He couldn't help but give a short, surprised laugh. "How'd you know?"

"Like I said, I'm from the country. You ask me anything about guns...a-and hunting, I'll probably know it."

"Aight then..." said Lamar, thinking of a ridiculously obscure question involving firearms. "In, uh, most machine guns...what kinda action it got?"

"Open breech. Like, with modern machine guns especially, when you pull the trigger, the breech bolt automatically opens, so you don't have those annoying little cock-offs you get, like, when it's really hot inside the gun and the chamber ignites by itself...right?"

"Hell...I don't know baby," said Lamar, grinning. "I guess so. Normally, I just like to pop shit off an' hope it hit some mo'fucker I'm creepin up on. I dunno all that other shit."

Alexia smiled, her eyes still glued to her new gun.

"But, uh, that knowledge gon' really help you out, homie. Just know that huntin Ballas or...whoever you don't like, it ain't like killin a sasquatch or whatever y'all hunt up in South Yankton. You, uh...got anything against killin dudes?"

"Not really. I'll only do that if I have to," she said stoically as she detached the magazine of her gun. "Besides...there's some bad people in this city, right?"

"Ohh, fo' sho'!" Lamar responded, his certainty and confidence returning to its pre-embarrassment levels.

The rest of the car ride was spent in silence, save for the gangsta rap songs blaring over the radio, as Alexia studied her new weapon. Lamar, rather proud of himself for making her smile, leaned back in his seat and weaved through traffic with one hand on the wheel. At last, the car approached to a small lot in West Vinewood, with a few generic sedans lined up on the far end and 2 or 3 Black Skulls hanging around the entrance.

"Evening, Ms. Knight!" exclaimed one of them. "Welcome to Los Santos!"

Alexia Knight made sure to give a courtesy wave from out of the window.

"So, um..." she began. "Do you know what this...meeting's about?"

"Aw man, you don't know?" he said, abruptly shifting the car into park. "Shit, girl. I thought yo' uncle told you already, but he went ahead an' arranged a little...test. Like, for you."

"A test?" she repeated, with a flummoxed look on her face. "What kind of test?"

"Heh, only the best kinda test, lil boo. Yo' ass...gon' be racin' my ass...right here, an' right now."

She was about to question him further, but at that point, a burly Black Skull courteously opened the door for her.

"Evening, Ms. Knight," said the gang member in a rough baritone voice.

"E-evening," she replied in a high and timid manner.

Alexia graciously took the man's enormous hand and stepped out of the shitty-smelling Emperor, making sure to tuck her new pistol into her back pocket. The ginormous man made sure to close Lamar's car door so that he could freely do donuts in the parking lot.

"You'll be fine, Ms. Knight. Lamar's just a bit foolish," said the burly man, trying to comfort the outwardly-nervous woman.

"Yeah, I-I can see that," she agreed, watching as he climbed up onto the windowsill of his car and steered around the parking lot with his feet.

"Hey, Alexia, you like takin in the sights of Los Santos, right?! Well, you lucky, 'cause you gon' get a great view...of the back of my whip, through this whole race!" Lamar let out a smug laugh and continued burning rubber obnoxiously.


	2. Chapter 2: Racin’ in the fast lanes

"Hmm..."

Alexia meticulously studied each of the cars that were being presented to her in the lot, one which she was expected to take on a potentially-deadly highspeed course through downtown Vinewood, one of Los Santos's busiest and brightest districts.

"You see anything you like, Ms. Knight?" asked a smaller Black Skull with many painful-looking facial tattoos and piercings.

"Alexia's fine, thanks," she smiled at him. "And um...I dunno, I really like this one, but...do you have it in red?"

Grinning nervously, the man immediately jumped into the front seat of the Ubermacht Oracle she had pointed out and floored it down the highway adjacent to the parking lot.

Seconds later he returned, with a fresh coat of blood red paint on the tiny coupe.

"Only the reddest for m'lady-I MEAN, Alexia."

He attempted at joking to her, but these efforts were mostly in vain because of his overwhelming nervousness. Despite the nice and understanding persona she was giving off at the moment, he knew all too well that a wave of a finger from this woman could possibly cost him his life, something he was not willing to risk over a subconscious slip of the tongue or offensive gesture.

"Wow, this is nice," Alexia commented as she climbed into the drivers' seat. She was definitely picking up on his nervous aura, which caused her to question whether her family connections were going to do her much good in this new city.

"Um...thank you. Good job."

"My pleasure, ma'am-ALEXIA, sorry."

The anxious Black Skull backed away awkwardly, all the while making eye contact and smiling in the most uncomfortable way imaginable.

Alexia turned the key, adorned with a deluxe sequined black skull keychain, and successfully started the engine. Predictably, the loud roaring sound attracted Lamar, who had been rolling up another foul-smelling blunt with a group of doots.

"Damn girl, that sho' is a nice whip. Course, it's...not as nice as mine, but...you know, still nice."

Alexia couldn't help but smirk at Lamar's obvious fallacy.

"Really? Well, at least mine smells a hell of a lot nicer."

"Ahh, I knew you wouldn't be so shy 'round me for long," said Lamar, grinning like a stoned Cheshire cat. "Welcome to the family, homie."

Alexia gleefully took hold of Lamar's outstretched fist and proceeded to shake it, not realizing that a handshake was not his intended gesture of friendship.

For an unusually long while, Lamar stared at the girl with a potent expression of befuddlement and indignation, as if she had somehow done him a great dishonor by not returning his desired fist bump.

Realizing that she had potentially done something terribly wrong was enough to cause Alexia to turn a newly-discovered glossy shade of red. She proceeded to slowly slink down into her seat, attempting in vain to remove herself from Lamar's continuing deriding gaze.

Once she was sufficiently low enough (which was practically on the floor of the car), she was suddenly snapped from her trance of embarrassment by a loud banging noise, originating from the roof of her 4-door coupe. What she saw was Lamar, practically out of breath from the relentless hoarse laughter that escaped from his mouth. So out of control was this intense case of the giggles that Lamar had to repeatedly bring down his once-friendly fists onto her car's roof, in a desperate attempt to calm down.

"Man...man, sh...man-" Lamar attempted to speak. "That shit was the funniest...that shit was...it's goin on my LifeInvader, man I...oh, man, homie. Whoo! You-you crack me up sometimes, girl, and I fuckin...I fuckin love you fo' it! I love you, baby!"

Alexia gradually got around to sitting upright in the drivers' seat, the beet red coloring of her face fading as she saw that Lamar was not offended in the slightest.

"Now give me some knuckles, girl, Fo...For real this time!" said Lamar, letting out the last of the chuckles and holding out his fist once again.

Alexia reeled back and delivered a firm bump onto Lamar's leathered knuckles.

"Oh hell yeah, baby you got it! You-!"

"HEY!" squeaked an unfamiliar voice behind them. "Could you quiet down PLEASE, I'm trying to pick out a suitable vehicle! THANK YOU!"

The little girl quickly stomped off to wherever she had come from, leaving both Alexia and Lamar's mouths agape. Beyond curious about whether this was some sort of prank, she stepped out of the car, leaving the engine idling so that she and her new friend could investigate.

"Hmm, V8 engine, 5.7 Liters, very nice," the little girl observed. Alexia noticed a slight lisp in her voice, the result of visible yellow braces on her teeth. Her strawberry blonde hair was tied in long, Dorothy-esque pigtails behind her.

"So, um, how fast can this puppy go?"

"Oh, 110, easy. 0 to 60 in 4 and a half seconds," replied the nervous Black Skull from earlier, who didn't seem to have nearly as much trouble talking with the elementary-aged girl in front of him.

"Wow. Pretty nice for a 4-door sedan. Those fools at the LSPD probably bit off more than they can chew with this cruiser. Um...y'know, it's got good stats for its class, I'll take it."

That being said, the Black Skull tossed the little girl a set of keys to the black Cheval Fugitive that she had picked.

Alexia and Lamar, had been observing the scene from behind a nearby dumpster, staring as if they were witnessing some sort of extraterrestrial or paranormal occurrence unfold in the tiny parking lot.

"Shit, girl...that looks like yo' competition," Lamar informed, wearing that same goofy grin that he usually donned.

"Wait...weren't you my competition?"

"Naw, well I am...but I guess the boss wanted to induct both new members simultaneously."

Lamar leaned in closer. He began to speak in a low whisper as the girl rolled past, testing out her vehicle in the parking lot.

"A couple nights ago, we found her tryna lose some heat down by Dock City, I think she'd like, escaped from a mental institution or somethin. But she was drivin' like..."

Lamar made some crazy motions with his leathered hands, unsure how to describe the girl's impressive driving skills.

"She drive like the devil, man. But, uh, when she lost those rollers we uh...hit her up, askin her to be part of the crew. And in exchange, we said we'd give her some protection, a steady income, an' access to the best vehicles in the city. I, uh...think she signed on 'cause of that, she is, like, REALLY into cars, man."

The two competitors sat for a while, watching as the girl maneuvered her jet-black sedan around the lot's many obstacles, getting a feel for how it operated before the race that was about to commence.

"But, uh...good luck to you," said Lamar, much more cheerfully.

"Thanks," Alexia sarcastically replied.

"No problem...Kiss on it?"

The glare that Lamar received from that statement was enough to force him to back off immediately.

"Aight, aight...you can't really blame a homie fo' tryin' his luck."

Lamar proceeded to his car, and Alexia did the same.

"Speakin of tryin' his luck, that's kinda what yo' uncle just did, dawg!" Lamar warned from behind the sputtering of his V8 engine. "Man, that homie just phoned in an' put down a HUGE-ass bet on yo' ass, like 10 G's man, fo' real!"

Lamar's information only succeeded in filling the air of the not-so-smelly Ubermacht Oracle with a suffocating odor of anxiety. If Alexia lost this race, just how disappointed would her uncle be? After all, she had known him since she was a toddler, before he had moved to this city, and was aware of his tendency to get slightly...violent when angered.

Alexia's stress-induced train of thought was interrupted by the sight of the other two cars pulling up onto the highway, lining up in a side-by-side fashion. Alexia rushed to do the same before anyone could judge her for being too slow.

Once situated, Alexia peered over to her right to look at the strange little girl, Before the race, she was applying some chapstick and adjusting her interior rearview mirror, the deafening sound of Nonstop Pop FM blasting from her speakers.

"Hey! Little girl!"

Alexia successfully grabbed the attention of the child, who glanced over at her with an obvious sense of scrutiny.

"Listen, um, I dunno how you got here or...how you're driving right now...but, good luck anyways!"

Alexia smiled, as she had just seemingly socialized with another person in Los Santos.

"Oh, please, I don't need luck," the girl chided her. "Especially from a freakin' goth girl."

"Hey...young lady! What makes you think I'm-?!"

"Man! Y'all can fuckin' catfight later, an' I'll be sure to get it on tape!" yelled Lamar impatiently. "For now, let's just put our foot to the gas, and see who the fuck is the better driver in this shit, man!"

"Yeah, what he said!" the little girl lauded. "I love you, you stupid loudmouth!"

"Exactly homie, I...wait, loudmouth?"

Before Lamar could question further, his attention was turned to a stunningly-beautiful woman, wearing only a black bikini and a matching black skull mask. She began to strut provocatively out onto the highway, in front of the three anxiously revving cars. In her hand, she carried a loaded Marksman Pistol, which she raised above her head and prepared to fire into the air.

"Aww, shit, here we go!" The adrenaline in Lamar's blood and the fact that he just might hook up with this girl later on had him practically bouncing up and down in his seat.

At long last, the trigger was pulled, and the three racers wasted no time in accelerating, missing the bikini-clad woman by mere inches.

In the lead were the mysterious little girl and Lamar, with Alexia's Oracle bringing up the rear.

"Right up here homie! I'm bout to go nice and slow fo' yo'-hey, man! WHAT THE FUCK!"

Lamar's planned taunting of his two competitors was brought to an abrasive halt as the little girl mercilessly rammed into the Emperor's rear end. Lamar tried his damndest to fight the girl off as her far-superior vehicle delivered more and more merciless collisions to the back of the old rustbucket. Finally, the girl managed to get at just the right angle to execute an almost-flawless PIT maneuver on Lamar's beloved old hoopty.

Alexia could only watch in horror as Lamar began to spin out of control. In the process, he hit a nearby curb, which at the speed he was going, immediately sent him airborne. All of this vehicular chaos then transitioned into a wild barrel roll over the concrete, smashing a few pedestrians in the process, before smashing through a nearby shop window. The girl's tiny middle finger could clearly be seen sticking out of the drivers' side window as she sped off.

The red Oracle immediately stopped to help her friend, but Lamar, who appeared completely unhurt, was quick to step out of his totaled vehicle and usher Alexia away.

"Man, go! GO! Get that psycho bitch!"

Seeing as he was indeed alright, Alexia's eyes narrowed toward the road; she proceeded to floor it down the highway, tire smoke and determination accompanying her departure.

"I love you, baby! You so hood!" Alexia barely heard over the thundering sound of her engine.

After executing a tight turn down a narrow Vinewood street and then turning onto an immense divided highway, the little cheater was soon in Alexia's sight, weaving through the heavy city traffic like the devil that Lamar had described her as. So flabbergasted was Alexia by this display of vehicular superiority that she barely had time to swerve left and avoid the blue Vinewood Tour bus that was proceeding at a high velocity from one of the intersecting roads.

This last-second obstacle managed to force Alexia into the opposite lane of traffic, sending legions of honking horns and blinding oncoming headlights her way. A semi truck and a dense line of cars prevented her from returning to the relative safety of the correct lane, so she was forced to make a beeline to the sidewalk. The sickening thuds of people against the speeding hunk of metal was enough to make Alexia cringe.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Another thud, followed by a girlish scream. "I'm sorry!"

A rather unlucky obese man became wedged between the hood of her car and her windshield, leaving his face pressed up against the glass.

"I-I'm so sorry!" the frightened woman attempted at apologizing.

The fat man's eyes lowered after seeing this pitiful sight; he looked at his unwilling assailant with not anger or shock, but rather slight annoyance.

"Woman drivers," he audibly muttered, before successfully managing to roll off of her windshield.

This just about gave Alexia a second or two to avoid a line of metro buses and navigate to another side road that led up a hill. The little girl was much closer now, only about a car length and a half away, which gave Alexia extra motivation to dodge a line of cars and a billboard so that she could eventually come side-by-side with the other vehicle.

As soon as the two cars were within striking distance, each girl immediately took the opportunity to deliver several rage-induced blows to each others' vehicles. All throughout this demonstration of vehicular-induced madness and brute force, the two competitors refused to relent, steering their cars toward each other in the hopes that maybe one of them would spin out into the nearest wall or semi-truck.

In spite of the chaos, Alexia soon sensed an opportunity in the form of a wide row of cars occupying the opposite side of the road. With a maniacal, evil-looking grin on her face, she positioned herself at an angle towards the back of the other car, to ensure that it would not back out of her maneuver. Then, before the little girl realized what was going on, she began to steer into the other car with impressive force in an attempt to push the younger girl into the path of the speedy oncoming traffic that had just been released from a lengthy red light. The little girl attempted to counter this by shifting to reverse, but the Fugitive refused to back up under the relentless force of the slightly-bigger Oracle.

As the blinding glare of multiple headlights came closer, the little girl, in a state of panic, had no choice but to swerve to the nearest sidewalk, obliterating a streetlight, a sign, and perhaps a few pedestrians in the process. Alexia, meanwhile, swerved back onto the right side of traffic and proceeded down Vinewood Boulevard, the road that the race had started on.

"Oh my God..." Alexia snickered at first, then broke out into a hysterical spell of laughter, mostly due to the effects of high-octane adrenaline coursing through her blood vessels.

"I...really didn't think that'd work...And now I'm gonna win!"

An impromptu finish line was now in sight, with several Black Skulls cheering her on from the sidewalk on both sides of it.

Alexia's semi-victory was interrupted by the sound of screeching metal behind her; The little girl had found her way out of Alexia's trap and was currently speeding toward her Oracle. The wrathful look on her face affirmed that the girl was now out for blood.

"CRAP CRAP CRAP CRAP CRAP CRAP CRAP!" Alexia was quick to shift into 2nd gear and make for the finish line like some sort of metallic gazelle being chased by the far-superior steel cheetah.

The little girl followed suit, shifting to the much-faster Fugitive's highest possible gear. The finish line, it seemed, was within perhaps a football fields' distance.

"C'mon, baby...Oracle! Don't...don't give up just yet! Come on! COME ON!"

The terrifyingly-anticipated sound of metal on metal sent Alexia into a frenzy, desperate to escape the wild spin that her car was being thrust into. Both vehicles, locked in such a desperate high-speed power grip, went into uncontrollable arcs and patterns as each crossed the finish line. The foreboding screech of burning rubber against concrete served as an almost-universal signal to the seasoned onlookers, who were quick to move out of the vicinity before they could be careened into.

Alexia attempted to brake as she realized her trajectory took her straight into an enormous brick wall. Steering as far left as she possibly could, she just barely managed to avoid a potentially-fatal head-on collision. Instead, only the right side of her hood slammed into the wall at well over 50 mph.

This impact was more than enough to shatter the windshield and passenger-side window, but Alexia was quick to shield her face from the thousands of glass splinters flying her way. Her quick thinking, unfortunately, also served to divert her attention from yet another imminent collision that came from the back. This one managed to stop the car entirely and send Alexia lurching forward in her seat. Her face smashed into the newly-deployed airbag so hard that her ears immediately started to ring.

For a brief moment in time, everything was still and deathly silent, save for the incessant high-pitched droning in her eardrums. At this moment, the blur of honking horns and the roars of engines were no longer, and the view outside her shattered window was not zooming past her at an insane velocity. This relative serenity was soon brought to rest as Alexia began to taste something all-too-familiar; it was a very bitter, iron-tinted taste, and it was starting to form a bright red pool on top of the airbag that her head had slammed into.

This rather unsettling sight was the last thing Alexia could consciously comprehend. Tiny multicolored geometric shapes soon clouded her vision, accompanied by a bittersweet blackness creeping in from all sides. All she could do at the moment was allow it to blanket the stars in front of her and eventually surrender her to a somewhat blissful state of unconsciousness.


	3. Chapter 3: Divergence

A flurry of hushed, anxious voices pushed and shoved their way into Alexia's consciousness and slowly snapped the girl back to the current state of reality. She noticed that the crowd of Black Skulls had dragged her out of her now-smoking vehicle and onto the opposite end of the road, where she was currently lying on her back.

"Hold on, y'all," sounded a familiar ghetto accent, above all of the nervous voices. "I think she needs some mouth-to...DA FU..." The sound of a motorcycle drowned out any other sound until a sickening _crunch_ reached Alexia's ears. She heard a series of popping sounds then she felt her dazed body being lifted up. She forced her eyes to open to a horrible scene. Lamar was curled up into a ball holding his arm while blood seeped from his stomach. The thing carrying her by the neck was mysterious. Clad in sleek black garb with a mirror bike helmet the figure walked through bodies of injured Black Skulls. Alexia instinctively lashed out at the man. She was rewarded with sharp pain coming from glass shards digging even deeper into her hands. One particular shard was jagged and biting into her hand especially hard. **"Listen Miss, you're not in the best shape right now so relax."** The man said. He carried her over to his bike. She recognized the model as a Pegassi Bati 801. It was painted black with red rims shaped like a tomoe. **"Like it? I call it Itachi."** He promptly laid her across the back of the bike gently. "H-Hey what about the race?!" Alexia croaked out. **"Oh that? Yeah you lost by Noel's middle finger. That crazy teen knocked herself unconscious with that stunt."** The man started up his bike and mounted it. **"Now don't do anything crazy, alright?"** They took off speeding!

Alexia felt sick as she watched buildings blur together as they picked up of even more speed. She felt the bike twist and turn every so often until they came to a stop. **"We're here."** The mystery man turned off the bike and picked her up off the vehicle. Before them was a little crappy garage so ordinary you wouldn't even bat an eye at it. He motioned for her to start walking. They entered in at side door. The inside wasn't much better. Low lighting, a couple of cots, and what looked like a drug lab to Alexia. **"Hey Doc, you up?"** He said to the lab table. A man emerged from the piles of papers, test tubes and experiments. "Yeah I'm up. What the hell do you want?" He said. His voice was gravelly sounding. The "Doc" stepped into the lighting. Alexia became terrified of his appearance. He was thin but very tall, in his late thirties to early forties. He was pale looking with a black hair styled with a buzzed haircut and an pencil goatee running along his chin from sideburn to sideburn. He had a pair of thin square glasses leaning on his thin nose hiding his eyes. Unlike her abductor, Doc was dressed nicely in dress shoes, dress pants, and a white work shirt tucked in with the sleeves rolled up. The look on his face though is what scared her. He looked ready to kill someone.

 **"I got a patient for you to clean up."** The biker said.

"I can see that you dumbass. What the hell happened to her?" Doc asked.

 **"Car crash. Glass lodged in her hands. Oh and it was one of those crazy Black Skull street races."** He replied coolly.

"Will she be able to pay up?"

 **"I'm positive she'll be able to more than meet your fee."**

Alexia stayed quiet while she listened to the exchange. "Hey. What are you gonna...what are you going to do to me?!" She blurted out.

"Calm down! Yeesh! This guy didn't fill you in?" Alexia shook her head no. The man let out a sigh. "This is my clinic. Where injured people get better. GET IT?" He said in mocking tone. "Now drag your sorry ass over to that table opposite of my lab." He said pointing. Alexia did as she was told. The Doc dug a first aid kit from under his work space. The table was normal except for two shackles bolted into the table. The biker placed her injured hands into it and locked it. Doc rolled over in a swivel chair. "Sorry about the cuffs girlie. It's to keep you from hurting yourself. After all, this is delicate surgery." For the next half hour she felt herself yelp and scream as the shards of glass were plucked from her flesh and the wounds sterilized. Doc bandaged her hands afterwards along with her head. "Now you mind telling me why the hell you were racing Black Skulls?!" Alexia wasn't sure if she could respond to the man's questions truthfully. Unluckily for her the biker spoke up. **"She's the niece of the Black Skulls Doc, I roughed up the crew overseeing the race then I kidnapped her."** He stated casually.

"YOU SHITHEAD!" Doc yelled. He stood up and grabbed the biker by the collar. "Give me one damn good reason why I should let you keep breathing right now!"

 **"Easy, easy. The girl is pretty important right? I did the math and figured out that we can speed up your research with the money we can randsome off of Knight's bank account. Nothing too crazy just a reasonable amount."**

"Even if that is true, we'll have the Black Skulls breathing down our dammed necks!"

 **"Hold on. Knight's a business man. We just patched up his niece right?"**

"Yeah..." Doc smiled wickedly. "This could work! His lackeys are fodder compared to his niece. Hell, I bet he'll be on his hand an' knees thanking us for taking such good care of her!" Doc sat back down and turned his head towards Alexia, crossing his legs in the process. "Listen up girlie! From now on your our property... no we're not pimps... VIP? Hmmmm... Indentured Servant! Name's Doc Confer! The guy in motorbike helmet is Stephen Grit." Doc jabbed to his accomplice. "Your looking at the co-owners of Grit Enterprises! Your gonna be working with us until your darling dear Uncle Knight pays up!"


	4. Chapter 4: Rules and Fear

Alexia was stunned from this unexpected turn of events. To think one minute she was racing right down Vinewood Boulevard the next basically a hostage being ransomed for money! "What are you going to make me do?" She asked Doc.

"I'm so glad you asked girlie! We're not gonna do anything too horrendous. Mainly housekeeping errands. Think of this time as a personal first class tour of Los Santos up close and personal! By the way what the hell is your name anyways?"

"Alexia." She replied quietly.

"Alex then, now cheer up! First your going to get some rest then tomorrow it's your very first day of employment. Now doesn't that sound exciting?!" He said condescendingly. Alexia shrugged her shoulders in response. **"Hey Doc, don't forget the house rules."** Grit chimed in. "Oh right. Lemme inform you of a couple things. First off, I take blood samples to make sure everyone under this roof this clean. That means no booze, no drugs, and no smoking. I run a clinic here! Not a fucking addict despot. Second, everyone working here will be in uniform so to promote our business. Third don't even think about calling uncle dearest! When he contacts you, you'll hand the call to one of us." Doc released Alexia from the table and stood up. "Now if you excuse me I have my work to do. Grit, go out and get her a bed and some casual clothes and some company uniforms too while your at it." He said walking away. The biker nodded and left the garage. The sound of the motorcycle revving up and getting farther away soothed Alexia's fears. The pistol Lamar gave her earlier was resting in her right pocket. She decided to get out of here and back to her uncle. Even if she was thankful for the strangers cleaning her up, she would not be anymore of a burden, then it sunk in. She lost the race! What would her uncle think?! That spurred her even more to escape. Alexia slowly reached in to her pocket silently. She removed the pistol and gripped it amidst the pain from her hands. Then she aimed at Doc's back. She'd never killed a person before. Alexia thought back to how she got here.

The fiery sensation in her hand left her with tainted memories of the humble place she formerly called home, a small trailer in the outskirts of Billingsdale, South Yankton, which she had shared with her mother and two rambunctious teenage brothers. The painful memories of burning herself on the household's open electric stove and suffering a broken wrist during an ill-advised game of indoor football served to remind Alexia of the reason she had left this perpetual homestead on the Great Plains; she had wanted room to grow individually, free from the stagnated market of the Recession-stricken town and the incessant nagging of her mother to procure work and help the family, even though there was no work to be found anywhere nearby. Even if there was some kind of job opportunity, however, Alexia probably wouldn't be having it, due to her very poor social skills and her not-so-spotless permanent record.

She was expelled from the local high school at age 16 and sent to juvenile detention on charges of violently assaulting another girl, a well-known school bully that had picked on Alexia for many years, with a pair of large metal scissors. The incident had come about after the girl had shoved Alexia into the teacher's desk, knocking the wind out of her and causing her to fall onto the hard tile floor. This, of course, caused the whole classroom to erupt in laughter, jeers, and insults directed towards her. Embarrassed and in severe pain, Alexia's instincts soon turned to violent rage; she promptly stood up, grabbed a pair of 10-inch scissors from the teacher's top drawer, then lunged at the girl, inflicting several deep, painful stab wounds.

This 'particularly-disturbing incident', as the principal called it, left the girl with a mild level of disfigurement and a slight speech impediment, as well as several noticeable scars on her chest, face, and arms. Eventually, a few large boys were able to knock the weapon out of Alexia's hand and tie her to a desk until police could arrive. Soon afterward, a courtroom psychologist diagnosed Alexia with Intermittent Explosive Disorder, a mental illness characterized by outbursts of violent, angry behavior when she was pushed to a certain limit.

The rest of Alexia's teenage years were spent in a tiny cell in juvenile hall's psych ward, where she soon regretted her violent, impulsive actions and became a model prisoner; she read at least 3 books daily (including the entire King James Bible) and worked on several community service projects. She rarely interacted with her hardened fellow prisoners, instead opting to spend the time in between her tiring shifts of physical labor in the air-conditioned library, where she soon worked her way up to head librarian, the lone prisoner in charge of the 5,000-or-so state-owned books that the prison possessed.

Probably Alexia's most lasting impact at the juvenile facility was a small prisoner-run book club that had started one day, after a particularly-exhausting shift of highway litter clean-up, when a few prisoners decided to follow Alexia into her self-proclaimed "Eden" and predictably fell in love with the large, air-cooled environment. Sensing an opportunity, Alexia used her influence as head librarian to convince the warden to allow the book club, which humbly started out with the 4 inmates that had followed her that day. However, as word spread around the facility and the summer days grew hotter, several more inmates decided to invade this oasis within the prison walls. At its peak, the prison book club had 53 members, who were each required to write a detailed report on their book in order to have time tacked off of their required laboring time. The club lasted for a little less than a year and a half, unofficially disbanding when Alexia was released from juvy at age 18, although letters from some of her still-incarcerated friends indicated that it has made a recent comeback, now boasting some 12 full-time members.

Upon her release, Alexia's parole officer gave her an assortment of G.E.D. programs and halfway houses to choose from, all of which she promptly declined. Instead, she chose to move back into her mother's trailer for an unspecified amount of time and search for a minimum-wage job somewhere, which would hopefully pay enough to help her earn a decent living.

It was also around this time that a distant relative started contacting her, an uncle who showed quite an interest in her violent outbursts and promised her steady pay and security if she was willing to move to the city of Los Santos, which was some 2,000 miles away, to perform work that was far beyond the bounds of what was considered 'legal'. In his many e-mails, he would often describe fantastic scenes of explosive car chases and drug deals gone wrong that would saturate Alexia's dreams. These dreams, however, were limited by the fact that it was a violation of her parole to leave South Yankton, so she decided to remain and hope for more law-abiding work.

However, 2 years and no job later, the tiny corrugated metal trailer was made even more cramped as her brothers grew into men and her mother continued to relentlessly deride her, based solely on the fact that she was a lazy, unemployed ex-con living with her family. Low on cash and especially self-esteem, Alexia many times set out to prove her mother wrong (in some respects). On the advice of her uncle, she would sometimes borrow her father's old Winston rifle and don a cheap Halloween mask, then walk into the nearest liquor store along State Highway 69, demanding large amounts of money. As the local PD caught onto her gig and were closer to finding out who the mysterious robber was, Alexia, out of desperation, urged her uncle to make her a fake ID and pay for a flight to Los Santos. He, of course, immediately obliged.

She focused now. It was no time reminisce of days past. Now was the time to act!

"Hey girlie. Next time you wanna off somebody do your homework." He said from behind her. How-when did he move behind me?! Alexia thought

"I'm an ex-assassin if your wondering. Back in the day I was notorious in the underworld, just for being way too good at getting rid people quietly. I could slit that pretty little neck of yours before you EVEN think of pulling that trigger!" Doc hissed. "Don't you dare try to pull that crap again."

Alexia felt her legs quake with fear then buckle under her. The gun clattered to the floor beside her. Doc walked back in strides to his lab. "Once a human's rebellious flame is snuffed out, their will to escape fizzles out too. If you really want to escape that badly then go on! Try grabbing that gun!" Doc urged Alexia. Alexia looked at the weapon and reached out for it. Just before she grasped it she was struck by intense fear and apprehension. Her hand shook. An image of the doctor flashed in her mind and she broke out in a cold sweat. "What's wrong girl? Don't have the guts to touch it? You wouldn't be able to anyways! It's called the fear phenomenon. No matter how smart or how muscle headed you are it's a psychological thing. Your mind automatically associates that pistol with fear when exposed to small intense events of trauma." Doc summarized.

Never in her uncle's stories had she heard of such a frightening figure. The sheer skill of a professional made Alexia doubt what she could contribute to her uncle's syndicate."Do you think...if I go along with your scheme...I could learn a thing or two about being a criminal?" Alexia asked.

"Heh. That all depends on experience in the field. Either you viciously sink, or victoriously swim in this city of deceit." Doc said.


End file.
